


Syrup

by Duckay



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, M/M, maple syrup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckay/pseuds/Duckay
Summary: Fandango learns something about Tyler that he feels he probably should have known before, and tries to make it up to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArcanaMajor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcanaMajor/gifts).



> Based on a conversation I had with ArcanaMajor. Also based on the fact that I accidentally said something about Tyler Breeze and Fandango and a 'syrup club' when I meant to say 'strip club', and that sort of escalated into whatever this is.

“Back in Canada,” Tyler had begun, and he had that tone of voice which seemed to gently indicate that this was going to be a long, meandering story, but Fandango wasn’t listening. For a start, he was much more interested in the fact that he had Tyler tucked under his arm, head resting on his chest and blond hair spilling everywhere. For another, some part of that sentence seemed odd.

“Canada?” He repeated, his brow creasing slightly, fingers gently stroking over Tyler’s hair.

“Yeah, where I was born. Anyway…”

It was a simple fact of getting to know someone on the road, Fandango figured. You spent so much time in each others’ space that it didn’t really seem worth it to ask about pasts. He certainly had enough friendships and romances under his belt to have learned that lesson. Still, this seemed like an odd detail to have been entirely not known, so he pushed himself up onto his elbows and tilted his head to consider his lover curiously. Tyler made a whining noise as this dislodged him from his comfortable position, and frowned up at Fandango. That came as no surprise.

“How did I never know you were Canadian?”

Tyler shrugged, though his pretty features were twisted into a strange little scowl. “It didn’t seem important. Can you lay down again now?”

He wasn’t exactly going to tell Tyler no, so Fandango dropped back into his previous position, arm curling around Tyler a little more tightly. Tyler made a pleased noise in his throat, burrowing into the curve of Fandango’s arm and chest. It faded into something almost resembling a purr as Fandango began to lazily stroke Tyler’s mop of blond hair again, and they fell into a comfortable silence, and gradually to sleep.

* * *

Tyler didn’t seem offended that Fandango had somehow gone three months without realizing that he wasn’t American, but it seemed like an important detail to have overlooked. Maybe that was why Tyler had started the Fourth of July foodfight, come to think of it. Fandango just thought he liked throwing stuff at The Miz. He couldn’t blame him; it was a lot of fun.

Still, now he had to wonder. And even though Tyler didn’t seem to be offended, Fandango couldn’t help but worry that maybe he was, a little. After all, it was a pretty big thing to have not noticed, especially since now that he went and looked back, Tyler had mentioned it on social media several times. At the very least, Tyler was probably secretly irritated that Fandango didn’t follow his Twitter account very closely.

A few nights later, Tyler was spread out in front of him on sheets with a thread count that didn’t even begin to approach what he’d normally consider acceptable. The hotel room was a tiny, cheap little thing, only three rooms and barely even a view, so it had been a compromise, if that was the word for it. Tyler had made it abundantly clear that he considered it horrifically beneath his standards, but he’d agreed anyway. There was a hint of that in his smile, too, even as his hair surrounded his face like a halo on the white pillows, and he stretched his body out invitingly. _Look what I’m doing,_ it seemed to say. _Look at me, lowering all my standards for you._

Fandango felt his own smile, mirroring Tyler’s. Tyler was cocky and delightful and it was hard to ignore.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he murmured, his voice pitched low and lustful. He couldn’t help but admire the way goosebumps rose on Tyler’s bare skin at the sound, and he reached out with one hand to trace a pattern across his skin. Tyler shivered underneath him, and Fandango had to bite his lip at the sight.

Tyler’s eyes closed obediently, without even being asked, even though his smile faltered with just a trace of uncertainty. If there was any image in the world more beautiful than Tyler trying to be trusting and just barely managing it, Fandango had no idea what it might be. He leaned forward to trail his lips across the sensitive skin of Tyler’s throat, chuckling deeply at the sounds that pulled out of his lover.

“That can’t be the surprise,” Tyler complained, and he was doing his very best to sound grumpy, but the thrill and expectation in his voice were more than apparent. One of his eyes squinted open for a moment, before falling closed again.

“It’s not,” Fandango breathed back, sitting up again. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

That made Tyler whine again, and wriggle a little bit on the bed, but he still didn’t open his eyes. Still waiting. Fandango reached into his suitcase, murmuring some soft words of appreciation and approval at Tyler being so good for him.

The first drip of the syrup was a line across Tyler’s stomach, the sugary liquid catching the light and accentuating the lines of his six-pack. The second, pooling in the dip of his collarbone, had Tyler’s eyes flying open with an unpleasant cry, and he shot up to a sitting position as though Fandango had dropped a venomous spider on him or something.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Fandango’s mouth dropped open, then closed again. That wasn’t the reaction that he had hoped for, or expected, to say the least. Tyler was batting at the syrup on his skin ineffectually, as though he thought that might help, and only succeeded in spreading it further into a sticky mess.

“Isn’t it -” Fandango began, but Tyler cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

“It’s in my hair, isn’t it, ‘Dango? Oh - oh no.” If it hadn’t been in his hair before, it certainly was once he shifted position again, the ends of his hair on one side landing in the pool on his collarbone. His hand flew up automatically, as though to stop it, succeeding only in spreading the sticky mess further.

“Little bit,” Fandango agreed, a little weakly.

Tyler shot him an almost pityingly look. “Is this because I told you I was born in Canada?” Exasperation and derision dripped from every syllable, but there was a faint hint of affection, deep down. Deep, deep down. Fandango opened his mouth to reply, but Tyler was clearly not finished. “Is this what you think Canadians do in their spare time? Take… sex baths in maple syrup?”

There was nothing to do but laugh at that, even as he tried to choke out an apology. Tyler shot him an indignant look, reaching out with his sticky hand to smear across Fandango’s face.

“Let’s see how you like it,” he huffed, but there was a mischievous grin, too, so that was a good sign.

The sticky substance felt strange on his stubble, so Fandango had to concede that he could very nearly see Tyler’s point, but he grinned broadly back at him, reaching out to dip his fingers in the trail now dribbling down from Tyler’s collarbone, smearing it further across his chest. Tyler squealed, grabbing the bottle out of Fandango’s hands and pouring an unnecessarily large glop of the stuff across Fandango’s body to match.

“Ugh, it’s sticky!” It wasn’t the cleverest thing to say, Fandango had to concede, especially as he caught the shine in Tyler’s eyes as two hands landed on his chest, smearing the syrup across his chest and stomach.

“I know!”

Before he could form any other response, Tyler had wrapped two sticky hands around to the back of his neck, pulling him in close for a kiss. There was definitely syrup in Fandango’s hair now as well, making it stick out awkwardly around Tyler’s fingers, but the kiss was deep and hungry so Fandango couldn’t bear to complain.

When Tyler pulled back - laughing, a little, as their chests stuck together - the sparkle in his eyes made Fandango’s heart falter just a moment. Two fingers raised to the blond’s mouth, and he sucked them clean with an almost thoughtful expression.

“At least it tastes real,” Tyler said, after a moment, though he was still smirking. “Not that flavoured corn syrup, yeah?” He reached out to grab for the bottle again, this time with a steadier, less playful hand, and he raised an eyebrow. “You did go to the effort, didn’t you? This is nice stuff.”

“I tried,” Fandango explained, his voice a little softer than he intended. The bottle dropped onto the bed beside them again, probably leaking syrup onto the sheets, but his mouth claimed Tyler’s again, and they were lost in warmth and sweetness and a complete lack of care about some cheap bed linen that didn’t even belong to either of them. Tyler’s hand skated down his body, or tried, at least - he laughed into the kiss as he realized that the syrup meant their touches couldn’t flow as smoothly as he might have liked.

“Let me clean you up,” Fandango purred, pulling back from the kiss just enough to be heard, before leaning forward to nibble at Tyler’s lower lip for just a moment. He could feel Tyler’s body tremble at the sensation, and the soft, appreciative sound made a renewed heat burn inside him.

“You’d better.” The words were soft and frankly, a little bratty, but Tyler’s eyes flashed with a sultry charm, and he went easily as Fandango got to his feet, pulling Tyler off the bed with him and towards the bathroom. As they got to the door, Tyler leaned close and murmured into his ear, “I think you need to spend a long time making this mess up to me.”

If that was the punishment Fandango got, maybe he ought to make more mistakes like that in the future.


End file.
